One recent evening before I left the Primary Care Centre, as I closed the windows of my consulting room, a light breeze brought a pleasant, wafting smell very familiar to those of us who work or live just south of the Liffey. It must be explained that my practice is quite overshadowed to the west by the St James’s Gate Brewery of Arthur Guinness, which lies within 200 metres of our premises.

The odour this evening is an interesting, almost sweet, roasted coffee smell which seems to be present at intervals of weeks and I believe is caused by the roasting of barley. I wonder if this is linked with the convoys of grain lorries which I saw heading for Dublin as I travelled up from Kilkenny after the Summer School?

There are other brewing activities which cause the Liberties to be bathed in fine aromas. The smell of mashing is also familiar and is due to hot water being added to the ground malt (mash) in the mashing vessel… this gives a sort of sweet, cooking, digestive biscuit kind of smell. A rather similar smell is produced by the boiling of the wort. Wort is the liquid extract from malt and when boiled in vast quantities causes vapours to be released with flavours and odours of hops, sugar and malt. Delicious! 

A strange tension exists between a GP who spends many hours a week wrestling with problems related to excessive drinking and yet has a fond feeling for the 60 acre beer factory down the road. Though the brewery is large and industrial (a mixture of Victorian red brick buildings, with interlinking cobbled streets, and ultra modern, missile-shaped, large white silos), I cannot help feeling affection for its commanding presence. There is something dark and mysterious but quite warm and benign about the great old establishment. However, I do miss the little blue diesel trains which chugged between the various parts of the brewery when I was a child.

An irony frequently emerges during consultations with some of the older men in the practice, several of whom had fathers who worked in the brewery but have themselves suffered from drinking too much stout. Recently a patient, Edward, who enjoyed a pint or two in his day, commented that his father had “walked into Guinness’s after the First World War”. When I asked why he had ‘walked in’, Edward replied with a chuckle: “Well, he had been a chief petty officer in the Royal Navy and, you know, Guinness’s was an English firm. Other men who had been blacksmiths or been in the horse artillery were taken on as coopers and draymen.” And he puffed up a little with pride… “No ordinary labourer could ever afford to drink with my Uncle Mick (who was in the cavalry and was a cooper), cos he took a small Powers with every pint of stout. I never had the privilege of drinking with Mick as he died when I was 14…” He looked very wistful as he uttered this last regret. 

I suppose that while I am pondering the possible effects of the product of the Guinness family upon my practice and community, it is worth mentioning that dozens of my patients live in accommodation provided by the Iveagh Trust. These include Iveagh Buildings at Bride Street and Kevin Street as well as the Iveagh Hostel…  and I better not forget to mention that I was taught to swim in the Iveagh Baths. Lord Iveagh is of course the name of the most senior member of the Guinness dynasty. In 1901 the then Lord Iveagh set up a trust which built and administered good accommodation where previously miserable slums were a shameful repository of terrible poverty. The Iveagh Trust still administers these excellent properties and during my early years in practice I remember meeting the tweed suited and kindly old Lord Iveagh as he paid a courtesy call to the Iveagh Hostel. I am not sure if the present (fourth) Lord Iveagh takes such an interest… He was of course raised in Farmleigh in the Phoenix Park which is now owned by you and me, and occasionally hosts visiting dignitaries. 

Although my neighbouring business is now owned by a giant drinks consortium called Diageo, it maintains loyalty to its Dublin roots and has committed to remain brewing on the site for the foreseeable future. As our primary care team relaxes in the sun at lunch time on our balcony, we can wave at the tourists looking down at us from the Gravity Bar while they enjoy a pint. That circular glass structure on a tower which tops the Guinness Storehouse does not feel intrusive and is a reassuring reminder of that catch phrase ‘Enjoy Guinness Sensibly’. It is probably too late, however, to give this advice to Edward and his cronies.